The Arclight Saga

by C. M. Hayden

  “What way is that?” Cidrin asked.

  Lao pointed to an urn on a mantelpiece. “Bring that here for me, young lord. Set it on the floor.”

  Cidrin did so, and Lao opened the top. Inside was what looked like finely ground salt, but it shimmered with unnatural blue light. Lao dipped his hand into it and rubbed it between his fingers. Small sparks jumped between the grains.

  “There are only two places on Arkos where Illdricyte is known to naturally occur. The Deeping Mines of Kadrek, beneath the mountains, and here at Syseril. The monks here render it from dead branches of the World Tree. We send it back to the Magisterium in exchange for certain protections.” His voice seemed to snag on that last word.

  I have no doubt you’ve heard of Illdricyte before, Uncle. Perhaps in passing. As a magistry resource, it’s invaluable. Some devices can be powered through templar alone, but for the really intricate pieces, such as airship engines, a permanent source is required. Illdricyte is a crystal that emits its own innate energy. Some say it was used by the Old Gods to create the world.

  “Protections like the invisibility field outside?” I asked.

  Lao smiled. “Quite so. Unfortunately, something’s happened that threatens our arrangement. Being one of the only sources of such a valuable resource, I knew the Imperator would send his best and brightest to help.” He motioned for us to sit, and we did so. His voice turned more somber and serious as he searched for the right words.

  “These monks are called the Liat. They’re the self-appointed wardens of Syseril and have been protecting it for centuries. The Liat aren’t viewed well by the other Shians, but they’re a gentle people, really. Not a hint of aggression in them. But, they’re quite protective of the tree. And it’s been protective of them, until recently.”

  Ross nodded. “Does this have to do with the madmen you mentioned?”

  Lao raised one finger. “Not madmen. At least…they weren’t until recently. These men were my friends. Spiritual men. Some would venture into the marsh to pray and meditate. Sometimes, for days at a time before returning to Liatou. A month ago, some stopped coming back. We sent search parties to find them…but they had changed.”

  “Changed how?” I asked.

  Lao pursed his lips, and wobbled onto his walking stick. He started for the door. “I’ll show you.”

  We exited the central monastery building and crossed a narrow rope bridge to an adjacent shed. It was of sturdier construction than most of the other wooden buildings, and the only one that had armed guards. Lao spoke with the guards briefly, and they opened the door. I and the other artificers crowded the entryway. The shed was completely dark inside, and in the far back corners were three adult men in tattered orange robes, sitting with their arms wrapped around their knees.

  They rocked back and forth, spouting nonsense. Their hollow eyes didn’t have the faintest trace of humanity left in them, and they didn’t seem to notice us.

  “The end,” one rambled, “the beginning, we all serve, we all see, we can’t escape it, but it’s there. Always there. Like a great chasm. And if we listen hard, it creeps in.” He ran his fingers across his bald head. “Like water, like rock, like stone, like droplets of starlight and moonlight. The cage doesn’t end.”

  Lao motioned for the guards to shut the door. He seemed lost in grief, for a moment, before he spoke again. “They’ve all come back this way,” he said, somberly.

  We returned to the monastery, and Lao took his place back at the High Seat. He continued:

  “The other elders believe that some malignant spirit has infested the swamp and has begun to corrupt Syseril itself.”

  “And what do you believe?” Magister Ross said, with no particular inflection.

  Lao shrugged. “I am now—and have always been—a magister, at heart. I don’t believe in wicked spirits. I do believe in the Old Gods though, and the most likely explanation is that there’s a piece of Old God artificery within Syseril that has malfunctioned and is causing hallucinations. It will need to be repaired.”

  “That’s our goal?” I asked. “Fix whatever device is causing all this trouble?”

  “Part of it,” Ross said. “I’ve got a few surprises in mind to keep you on your toes.” There was something about the way she said this that unsettled me. Nevertheless, fear was the furthest thing from my mind, at that moment. I was excited. I wanted to get started right away.

  - 8 -

  Assurances

  Despite my eagerness to begin, Magister Ross informed us that we had twenty-four hours to rest, eat, and prepare for the task ahead. To that end, we were given free rein through Liatou.

  The first impression I’d gotten of the Liat made me think of them as cold and angry, but nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, very few of them were even monks, perhaps only one sixth of the total population. The rest had turned their small corner of the marshlands into livable homes.

  Early on, my team went foraging through the town for the supper Ross had mentioned. We didn’t want to dig into our rations just yet, so we decided to taste some of the local cuisine. There were no restaurants, per se, but a charming family of fishermen invited us to eat with them. Not surprisingly, very few fish lived in the marsh-water, so most of the meat we were offered was flayed snake, or an assortment of captured birds. I ate without a second thought; but Kurian just stared at it on his wooden plate, like a child being forced to eat vegetables.

  Fenn, on the other hand, was scarfing the food down and licking his fingers. He glanced at Kurian. “In a few days, you’re going to wish you’d finished that.”

  Kurian pushed the plate dismissively toward Fenn, and I noticed our gracious hosts were definitely offended but too polite to say anything. They were a small family of three, both parents perhaps in their early forties, and a young teenage boy that helped his papa on their rickety old fishing boat. The boy seemed fascinated by us, but he didn’t speak Amínnic. Perhaps it was merely the fact that we were strangers, foreign strangers no less.

  This was my first time trying snake meat. It’s surprisingly similar to fish, but a bit more stringy. I found it quite to my liking and made an inappropriate laugh at the table while chewing, as I imagined what my father would say if I returned home asking the palace chefs to cook varieties of snake dishes. Snake-meat pies. Snake patties. Snake-bread pudding. I snorted, and Fenn gave me a look like I’d lost my mind.

  When I was finished, I put my pack on the table and fished out a few of the devices I’d made in the Artificium. I set each of them on the table in rows.

  “Kadia first,” Fenn said, as I was still setting up. “What do you have for us?”

  Kadia beamed and took several small vials of liquid from a satchel on her belt. As the team’s best alchemist, her role was clear. “I wasn’t completely sure where we’d be going, so I planned for several different environments. Swampland is among the simplest. I brought pan-antivenom for possible snake bites, insect repellant, trench-foot ointment, vardenroot, keryl poppy seeds, and—most importantly—water purification pods.”

  Fenn nodded and patted her on the shoulder. “Brilliant.” He looked to me.

  Fenn and I had worked on most of the devices together, so my explanations were mostly directed at Kadia and Kurian. “We’ve tried to prepare for several eventualities, too.” I touched my hand to four oval-shaped metal spheres with arrow-shaped grooves on the sides. “We’ve got four flash grenades. They can stun a fully grown man for a minute or two.”

  Fenn pointed to a cylindrical steel device with a hook on the end. “Climbing devices, should we need to scale any cliffs or trees. These have only had limited testing, so we should use them sparingly.”

  I bulled ahead, pointing to the last device. A disc-shaped creation about as wide as my hand. “Finally, a trip mine. Eventually, we’ll need to sleep; we can set these up around camp. Anyone who passes them will get a nasty shock. Not lethal, but not pleasant.”

  Kurian was nodding appreciatively, and remove
d four swords from his bags. He handed one to each of us. “And hard steel, in case all of our brilliant devices fail us.”

  Aside from the weapons, Kurian had prepared other essentials: flint and dry kindling for making fires, tent equipment, lengths of rope, spades, and water canteens. We took a final stock of our food stores. Enough for seven days in the wilderness, maybe longer, if we rationed properly.

  Even with four of us, it was a lot to haul. Nevertheless, we needed to be ready.

  At the graciousness of our hosts, we were allowed to sleep in the central monastery that night. The other four teams kept mostly to themselves, with us taking the corner closest to the main entrance. Unfortunately, I didn’t get much sleep that night. I awoke around what must’ve been 0200 hours, seeing a figure standing over me. It was Magister Ross. Silently, she tapped me on the shoulder and motioned for me to follow her. Not sure what was the matter, I did as I was told.

  It was warm and humid outside, without any of the typical night-air chill you might expect in the early hours of the morning. It was completely dark outside, but for a few mostly dead torchlights and a bit of moonlight. We were the only ones outside that I could see, and Ross sat on the edge of the shimmering water, hanging slightly off the dock. The dock was little more than many wooden beams laced together with frayed rope; and when she sat, the entire platform dipped. She patted the area behind her, and I sat.

  “Have I ever told you how much I respect you, Your Highness?” she said. I looked back at her, dumbfounded. In all the years I’d known her, Ross had never once addressed me as royalty. Of course she knew, several magisters knew that I was the Sun King’s daughter, but at my insistence, the secret was tightly kept.

  I looked back at the monastery reflexively.

  “Don’t worry,” Ross said. “Your secret’s safe. I understand your desire to become a magister on your own merits. It’s a laudable goal. And there’s no doubt that if the other artificers knew you were the Sun King’s daughter, they wouldn’t touch you. Some might even forfeit immediately and simply try during a year you weren’t around.”

  I didn’t know what she was getting at. “Once the trial is over, and I’m a magister, it won’t need to be a secret anymore,” I said.

  Ross gave a genuine smile. “I admire your confidence. And, if it were up to me, I would respect your wishes. However, it isn’t up to me.”

  I gave her a stone-faced look. “My father isn’t getting involved, is he?”

  “I’m afraid it’s out of my hands.”

  I made a motion to stand, but she waved me back down.

  “Calm yourself, Miss Kyra,” Ross said. “He’s not pulling you out of the trial. Amín forbid. He simply wants assurances as to your safety. You can hardly blame a father for wanting to keep his daughter safe.”

  “He promised me he wouldn’t interfere,” I said, practically snarling.

  Ross produced a leather necklace from her pocket and handed it to me. It seemed rather ordinary, except for a thick copper pendant on the end.

  “Put it on,” Ross said.

  I did so, then continued to examine the pendant. It was circular like an aurom, but only the size of my thumb. On the front was an indent that looked as though it could be pressed down.

  “If your life is threatened, press your finger to the middle,” Ross explained. “We’ll be able to find you and pull you out within minutes.”

  I began to protest, but Ross shot me down. “I’m afraid this isn’t negotiable. In fact, your father wanted me to go much, much farther than this. Fortunately, reason won out, and he agreed that this was sufficient. If you refuse, I’m to take you back to Endra Edûn this very night.”

  “And if I just toss it away as soon as the trial begins?” I countered.

  “Then it would be as if you pressed it. We would pull you out.” Ross sighed hard and pulled herself to her feet. She began to walk away, but she stopped and peered back for a moment. “As I said, Your Highness, I have a great respect for you. I wish you the best of luck.”

  I didn’t see any gain in pouting or grumbling about it, but the anger was plain on my face. My voice came out a weak rasp. “I didn’t ask for special treatment,” I said.

  “We are who we are, princess,” Ross said. Her eyes grew momentarily distant. “And of all the suffering in the great wide world, is it really such a bad thing to be born to royalty? Some of us were born in the dredges of society, nameless, penniless, the lowest of the low. Some of us had to climb and claw our way to the top, inch by inch, until here we stand.” Her footsteps trailed off as she walked away. “Goodnight, Miss Kyra.”

  I walked back to the monastery positively fuming. I bit my lip, clenched my fist, and briefly considered punching a hole through a ceramic dragon hanging on the wall. I seethed for a moment, bringing myself back from the point of idiocy. Realizing how childish I was being, I shook my head and continued on toward the sleeping area. However, I only got a few steps before the voice of Magister Lao called from the darkness.

  “I thank you for not damaging that,” he said, nudging toward the dragon figurine. “It’s over a thousand years old, forged in the image of Craetos the brood king. Quite priceless, actually.” I was happy to see that he was smiling.

  “Sorry, I was just…”

  “Just angry?” he offered. He walked past me and straightened the dragon.

  I stammered. He was blind, wasn’t he? How did he know what I was going to do, or how I felt? I squinted at him in the darkness. “My apologies, Lord Magister. I need to control my temper.”

  “I’m neither of those. Neither a lord, nor a magister. Not anymore, at least. I’ve chosen a simpler life.” As he neared, I could see that he had some hard lesions going up his neck and around his collarbone.

  I found him to be a curiosity, and couldn’t resist pressing a question or two. “Why?”

  “Why what?” he said.

  “Why would anyone leave the Magisterium for…” I trailed off, looking at the simple monastery decorations and crude statues. “For this.” Dump, I thought, but did not say.

  “There’s peace here you can’t find in the Magisterium.” He exhaled hard. “Oh, I remember being much like you. Afire with ambition. I’d spent over twenty years as a magister when I was sent here to negotiate with the Liat for Illdricyte. It opened my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time I could just…sit and listen to the turnings of the world. It’s something lost on us, I think. The simple things.”

  I really couldn’t relate, but I could feel he was waiting for me to respond. “I see.”

  He patted me on the shoulder. “Now, off to bed. Trust me when I say that you’ll need your strength.”

  “Sure,” I said, starting back.

  “Oh, one more thing,” Lao said.

  “Yes?”

  “That boy, Kurian. He’s on your team, is he not?”

  “He is,” I said, not quite sure what he was getting at.

  “By any chance would you happen to know much about his parents?”

  In the darkness I couldn’t see much of Magister Lao’s facial features, but there was something about his eyes when he asked this question that unsettled me.

  “If you want to know about Kurian’s family, I suggest you ask him,” I said glibly.

  Lao smiled wide, showing off his gamely teeth. “Quite so. Do enjoy your rest, little one. You’ll need it.”

  - 9 -

  Forgotten Languages

  The next morning, just as the sunlight crept over the treetops, we ate, geared up, and—before proceeding out of the village—were sent to speak with Magister Ross one last time. She was waiting at the edge of the invisibility field around the town. When our boats reached the dock, we filed out in front of her.

  Ross glanced over the lot of us in one quick motion, counting as she did. “Excellent,” she finally said, after the last artificer, Lon, stepped ashore. Ross held up five leather pouches and set one in each team leader’s hand.

  “What are these?
” Pyke asked, starting to unlace the top.

  Ross stopped him. “Not here,” she said. “Inside these bags are keys. Either an earth key or a sun key. To enter the chamber at the base of Syseril, you’ll need to acquire a key of the opposite type from one of the opposing teams.”

  “How exactly do we do that?” Fenn asked, looking over my shoulder.

  “By any means necessary, short of intentional lethality,” Ross said. She pulled her pocket watch from her front uniform pocket, and clicked a button on the top. “You have a one hour truce, starting now. No team-to-team contact is permitted, whatsoever, until this hour has elapsed. I suggest you use the time wisely.”

  None of us moved, as if waiting for her to say something more. However, she just stared back until finally saying, “Well? Get moving.”

  I led the way, and the others trotted closely through the mud and muck. The leaves of the trees were heavy with morning dew, and sunlight glimmered through the fog, giving the area a dreamlike quality.

  “First thing’s first,” Fenn said, when we were well clear of the other teams.

  Still walking, I opened the bag we’d been given. Inside was a red-colored skeleton key.

  “Then we’ll need to track down a team with a sun key,” Kurian said.

  Kadia spoke up, her small voice barely eking over the buzzing of insects. “There’s no way to know which team has what key.”

  Kurian nodded concedingly. “We’ll have a fifty-fifty chance. We’ll move quickly, catch them off guard while they’re making camp.”

  Fenn adjusted the pack on his shoulder. “That’s unnecessarily dangerous. It’d be smarter to go toward the chamber entrance. Build a base around it from a defensible position, and wait for the teams to slug it out. When they come to open the chamber, we’ll be waiting.”

  They each had some valid points, but Fenn was right, of course. He usually was, despite his lackluster attitude. “I agree with Fenn,” I said without preamble. “It’s too dangerous to attack right now. We don’t even know what we’re up against.”